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“The rumors say he plans to marry this season.”
“Thatis most unusual,” Charlotte said, pushing back a strand of her silver blonde hair behind her ear. “Everyone says Lord Trent is…he is an unrepentant rake with no interest in the marriage mart; however, his recent actions must make one reconsider. He is very subtle and cunning about it, but he is bride hunting.”
Pippa felt faint. “I…surely you are mistaken.”
“I heard my mama talking with Lady Grantham,” Evie said with that naughty glint in her eyes. “They were avidly discussing that the marquess might be seeking a wife, and that there are four potential ladies he might very well choose from. Lady Priscilla Darby, Lady Sarah Moulton, Miss Caroline Barnaby, and our very own Lady Phillipa!”
Pippa pressed a hand over her chest, as if that would still the sudden lurching of her heart. It was then Pippa noted the table drawn on the board with her name and the other ladies’ names Evie had just mentioned. The table had four columns labelled name, dance, outings, and rank. The first entry was Lady Priscilla, who had two dances, one outing—with the description enclosed in brackets indicating a picnic, and rank first or second. The second entry was herself—Lady Pippa, who had two dances, one outing—in brackets, “drive and balloon ascent,” and rank first or second. The third entry was Lady Sarah, who had one dance, zero outings, and ranked fourth. The final entry was Lady Caroline, who had two dances, zero outings, and ranked third.
Pippa was appalled and amused in equal measure. “This is terrible!”
“It is fantastic,” Lady Jocelyn said, swishing over. “My brother mentioned there is now a wager at White’s wondering whom Lord Trent will marry; some are wagering for you but…” She took a fortified breath. “Most are wagering for Lady Priscilla. The whispers are that whoever he favors next with a dance or even an outing is clearly the lady who has his heart and then his real intention will be revealed. Isn’t it delightful?”
Good heavens!
“You can remove my name from the board,” she said, fisting her hand at her side.
“Why?” several ladies asked in unison.
“The marquess already demanded I marry him, and I said no.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes tightly. “Given his temperament, I doubt he would express such a desire again.”
Harriet came over and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Why?”
Her lips quivered and she dredged up her will and firmed it. “He only offered because of the cottage. He does not love me,” she whispered achingly. “That was my reason then, but now I…” Her throat closed on the words, and she shook her head, feeling unable to speak.
“Do you love him?” Evie asked tremulously.
Yes.Yet she could not voice the words.
“You do not need to answer,” Lady Drusilla said, “We can see that you do.”
As if they silently communicated on the matter, her friends adroitly changed the subject, guided her from the room to the second-floor drawing room, and engaged her in several rounds of card playing. Sprawled upon the lush carpet on her belly, a fierce rush of love went through Pippa for these ladies. Determined to not cast a shadow on their merriment, she laughed and played with them, trying her best to not reveal how much her heart was aching with part hope and part agony.
* * *
A few dayslater at Lady Cantrell’s ball, Phillipa felt as if her heart would shatter. A very silly feeling that she must endure in her logical mind warned her, but she could not dismiss the sensations crawling through her with such intensity.
“He is taking her punch,” Evie said, scowling at Lady Priscilla. “We need to take her out of the game.”
Pippa choked on her champagne, trying to ignore the mutterings from her friends. Clearly they wanted her to win in whatever they imagined was happening. Her heart gave a frightful squeeze, and she admitted that she also wanted to win. She could feel Agatha’s considering stare upon her, and when she met her friend’s gaze there was soft understanding and sympathy.
That sympathy crushed Pippa. She needed to leave before she did something foolish like show her emotions to the world. Or march over to William and…and what? She murmured her excuses to her friends and found her mother amongst her set.
“Mama, I have a terrible headache, perhaps I might leave early?”
Knowing eyes settled on her face before they cut to the marquess where he was in conversation with the duke’s daughter and her set. He appeared far too charmingly attentive to Lady Priscilla, and she peered up at him as if she had found her center.
Her mother looped her hand through Pippa’s. “I think you should stay a bit longer. The marquess might ask you to dance yet.”
Oh, no. Pippa stiffened. “Mama—”
“There are whispers he is seeking his marchioness this season.”
She stumbled and her mother’s hand tightened on her arm. “Mama, I believe those are baseless speculations, nothing more,” Pippa said with a sigh. “Furthermore, it has nothing to do with me.”
“The marquess has taken a marked fancy to you, and even the scandal sheets have made mention of his interest, wondering at his intentions,” her mother said, making a small moue of her mouth. “Do not discount it. I can see that you own some feeling for him.”
Pippa flushed. “Mama, the scandal sheets merely mentioned the marquess danced with me twice this season. They also mention all his dances with other ladies. It is nothing remarkable I assure you.”
